


Caution.

by nummzie



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Dark Magic, Fantasy, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nummzie/pseuds/nummzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of an adolescent's pursuit to unravel the mystery of dark forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caution.

Prinston froze mid-step. In an instant his blood had curdled thick as foreign cheeses, and his carefree mood was swept away with the next gust of bone chilling wind. The footsteps neared, gaining pace and soon matching the rhythmic thump thump of his own heart ringing painfully against his eardrums. The young lad's mind rattled with desperate thoughts of who his pursuer might be, and whether turning around to confront the face that belonged to the sure-footed stranger, or making a smooth escape while a gateway of time still allowed him would be the wiser choice. Brief reminiscence invaded his moment of self-consolement..  
The first day of the long awaited market week brought forth crowds of merchants displaying brilliant arrays of fabric and embroidery seeking out citizens and nobles with pockets brimming with coins, poverty-stricken foreigners and alley rats hoping to snag themselves a fresh cinnamon bun from an inattentive baker. The limitless shades and flavors of people who arrived to participate in the activities of the Market Week filled the land from north gate to south. Earlier that day, Prinston had been swaggering the streets of Rudeswood like they belonged to no other than himself. His good mood was brought on by the news of his elder brother Chazrai's acceptance into boarding school to proceed his military training. Prinston didn't care for the new acknowledgment and respect the family of military trainees received, he was much more enthralled by the fact that the family income would increase. For many months he had been fascinated by the thought of what the world outside the borders of the country could possibly hold. Whatever it may have been, Prinston had concluded it was far more enchanting than his droning repetition of daily routine inside the walls. Every day was an echo, the shadow of the one before. The boy strived to break free of this unfavorable cycle the people of the city had been ensnared it. Market week was the only change of atmosphere anyone would experience for the course of three months. The sole reason that led him to stay was his family's dependence on the coin managed to spare laboring here and there. Now, he had no reason to stay. He could fulfill his innate desire to explore whenever and however he pleased.  
During that particular leisurely stroll, the lad had noticed an abundant amount of the Black Cloaked lurking the crevices of the marble streets. A rare sight to see that most defiantly moistened the palms and scratched the throats of whoever happened to catch a glimpse of them. They formed a group of many men whose faces have never been revealed to the public eye. They have always been an abstruse.. dark.. enigmatic topic of discussion, no one ever truly knowing their business or who they work for. Rumors have spread tales, accusations of the Black Cloaked not being human at all. Having no faces, therefore, no identities. Yet, they always cause a great deal of trouble. Whenever they appear, someone disappears. Their motive? Who knows. As far as Prinston's theories go, the victims stretch from innocent bystanders to popular court officials. He quickly realized they seemed to be following him, and made a solid point to stay engulfed in a sizable crowd, in which he had lost his shoulder pack during the hectic jostling of the anticipating people.  
At this moment, his breathing labored and his palms perspiration, he was almost certain it was a Black Cloaked following him now. He cursed under his breath at the realization that he had been standing there dumb founded as the footsteps approached, and his small window of time he had to escape had closed.  
A hand clamped over his shoulder.  
The young lad grabbed his pocket dagger, and pirouetted to greet his doom.

**Author's Note:**

> The story-line still needs some work, just a beginning i threw together when the idea came to me.~ <3 Please feel free to critique, in this case i would very much appreciate it.


End file.
